


Linger

by thingsishouldntbedoing



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon - Manga, Canon Era, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingsishouldntbedoing/pseuds/thingsishouldntbedoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust. A word hard earned and hard won and easy to lose. Just like anything else in life. [In the days before Chapter 53]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Linger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> So Cato [inspired me](http://catos.co.vu/post/75259626129) and I just had to write this. I am pretty heavily medicated right now (yay colds) so if there're some errors I'll come back and fix them later.
> 
> tumblr: thingsishouldntbedoing

Armin wasn’t sure what he was expecting, following the nurse down the hallway of the sanitarium. He had known Erwin would be kept in a good facility, that didn’t surprise him, but something about the sun beginning to fade through the window panes and the smell of pine in the air made him wary. Wary of something that was supposed to be a good thing. How had sights and scents that had once been so familiar and calming become hits on the already fractured ends of his nerves?  
  
“This is his room,” Armin took note of the nurse’s face, eyes catching sight of her name tag, before tucking his hand into his pocket.  
  
“Thank you ma’am,” he nodded before turning and striding into the private room, saluting with a straight spine and curved heart. There sat his Commander, the man he so admired and identified with, with an uncharacteristic smile on his lips and a beard growing on his thinned face. There sat Erwin with a bandage on what was left of his arm and pride high in his shoulders. Armin’s heart skipped a beat. That was another thing he’d known. That losing an arm wouldn’t break Erwin Smith.  
  
“Come in, take your coat off,” Armin glanced over his shoulder as the door closed, heeding Erwin’s suggestion. “You’re getting taller.”  
  
“I am sixteen, sir,” he responded and watched the surprise flash in Erwin’s eyes. “My birthday was last week.”  
  
“Was it? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” there was something close to honest disappointment in his voice and Armin felt a drop of bittersweet happiness.

 _Erwin had wanted to wish me Happy Birthday?_ Because that was how he addressed him in his head. How he’d addressed him before in the quiet of the night by the light of a gas lamp. It had started before Stohess, had started with Armin’s first pass at playful flirtation that had slipped from his mouth before he could stop it… or was it a strategic placement? He wanted power. The ear of the Commander. He _needed_ it to put his plan into action. But that hadn’t been the moment, no Erwin had resisted; said Armin needn’t worry… that Erwin trusted his judgement. But after Stohess, when Armin was the only one who understood, Erwin had come to him; said he trusted him.

 _Trust._ A word hard earned and hard won and easy to lose. Just like anything else in life.  
  
“Should I…”  
  
“Oh yes, sit,” the word came like a whipcrack; habit.

“Of course, sir,” Armin nodded and placed himself by the side of his bed, folding his jacket over his lap. “What is this about, Commander?” He wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, to feel the heat of his healing wounds, to feel the rough slide of his beard against his jaw. So many tactile sensations to experience and no time to experience them.

“Our next mission,” he smiled again but this time the faintest glint of teeth raised goosebumps on Armin’s body. There was something unsettling about _this_ Erwin. He wasn’t the calm and collected Commander Armin had come to know. This was insight into the glimpses of Erwin he had seen late at night, the shards of personality that came through when he found Erwin watching him sleep with steely eyes or when he cradled Erwin’s head in his arms and let him breathe in the scent of his skin-- times when Erwin was less than the crisp man in uniform.  
  
“And what is that, sir?” Armin could feel an inkling of concern, tugging at the lip of his boot.  
  
“Will you get my lather and razor for me?” Erwin asked, startling him. “I just…” he scratched at the hair on his jaw. “I feel a bit scruffy with you sitting there in your uniform.”  
  
“Yessir,” Armin had never known Erwin to beat around the bush with him, but somehow this felt like it. His recovery and subsequent return had Armin concerned that he may be pushing himself; concerned that they may lose their Commander they needed so desperately.  
  
“Come here and sit,” he smoothed the blankets beside himself, “I haven’t learned to shave myself yet.”  
  
Armin nearly dropped his bounty, heart pounding. That was a massive request, “I-I’ve never shaved anyone before, sir?”  
  
Erwin didn’t seem to be willing to change his mind, patting the spot next to him once more, “Come.”  
  
Armin licked his lips and sat down, resting the shaving tray in Erwin’s lap before rolling up his sleeves. For some reason this was terrifying him, of all things. What if he cut him? Or if his hand slipped and Erwin--  
  
“Calm down,” a large hand wrapped around his, thumb rubbing at his wrist gently. “It’s only a shave, Armin.”  
  
“Isn’t there someone better suited?”  
  
“And you think I’d trust anyone else with a blade to my throat?”

There was that word again. The word that left him breathless and internally destroyed. Trust was something he had earned from everyone he knew. Somehow he bore the weight of their _loyalty_ and _dedication_ and yet here he was-- too scared to shave his Commander’s face.  
  
“Armin?” His hand took his neck this time, pulling him forward.  
  
“Erwin?” He let their lips touch, felt the rough edges of Erwin’s beard over the hard lines of his chin and jaw as he tilted his head, opening his mouth to the warmth of his Commander’s tongue; just as demanding as the man himself. If he believed in demons he’d say one possessed Erwin Smith. A demon of confidence and certainty that Armin had yet to contract. He caught his fingers in Erwin’s normally tidy hair, took control for a moment with a shove of his tongue between Erwin’s teeth, and lost himself in the hot sensation of Erwin’s mouth.  
  
“Feeling better?” When they drew away, Armin panting from some misplaced desire, Erwin’s blue eyes glinted with mischief.  
  
“I’m surprised my face isn’t bleeding,” Armin let his fingers trail over the firm width of Erwin’s shoulder, holding his gaze.  
  
“You can do it, if you want,” Erwin murmured. “It’s fine.”  
  
“Erwin I…” The same rough hand from before placed his palm flat against the healing end of muscle and bone. It felt smooth beneath the bandages, hot the way healing flesh should, and unnerving somehow. He had seen so many people lose limbs now, but never had he the chance to touch one… to feel the pulse of living flesh still beating beneath the destroyed flesh.  
  
“Even when we’re broken we keep moving,” Erwin said softly and Armin bit his bottom lip, leaning forward to kiss him once more. “Sentimental today?”  
  
“I can be sometimes,” Armin caught the side of his face, hooking his hand around his ear to brush his thumb over the sharp blade of Erwin’s cheekbone. His face was hard and harsh and angular in the best ways, yet there was a softness there that hadn’t been there before… or maybe Armin was imagining it. Maybe Armin imagined the way Erwin’s eyes softened when they sought him out. Maybe he imagined that he meant something more to this man than just a pawn.

It didn’t matter, in the end, did it? No matter your belief there is always something that can contradict it.  
  
“Shaving,” Armin smiled around the word and lathered Erwin’s face with care, withdrawing his touch. He almost wanted to question him, to verify that Erwin wanted _him_ to shave his face… but second guessing Erwin Smith wasn’t the brightest idea.  
  
“This mission will be an extraordinarily difficult one,” Erwin murmured as Armin slid open the straight razor and examined the edge, flicking his thumb over the blade. “It’s sharp enough to split a hair.”  
  
“Sharp enough to slit a throat,” Armin’s response surprised even himself.  
  
“Smart boy,” Erwin smiled again, chuckling deep in his chest. His laughter was rare enough that Armin wished he could capture it in a jar, never to let it escape, and hold it close in the darkest nights when he knew he’d be alone.  
  
With a breath Armin reached out and stretched Erwin’s cheek, scraping the razor through the lather with clean, gentle strokes. There was something intensely intimate about the way Erwin closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep, and it made Armin’s chest tight. This was a moment to be shared between two lovers, two people bound by fate and love and desire. Not people with the whisper of death on their words and the slow, cold trickle of blood on their skin. This was a moment for all the people who had given their lives in Trost, the people who had died in Stohess, those who had been sacrificed in the expedition that nearly cost him _Erwin._ And at that thought hot fear boiled in his heart and he began to realize-- they weren’t any different from those people.

He knew the sacrifice was necessary but allowing himself to think on it too long only sunk a secondary wound into the dull ache he felt… and if he really considered what he was thinking about… he and Erwin were not any different. No not really. They lived and laughed and loved and worried and cried. Maybe those other people deserved to live but--  
  
He gasped lightly at the first bead of blood, feeling the blade nick Erwin’s jaw beneath his fingers, yet his Commander didn’t open his eyes. Not even as Armin put pressure on the spot and sucked in air and chewed his bottom lip. Not even as he began again, eyes watching the crimson swell once more before dripping into the lather on Erwin’s throat. Red on white. A stark contrast of the pure and the impure.

“You’re always so contemplative,” Erwin murmured and swallowed as Armin finished his face, laying a new coat of lather on his throat, vanquishing the scarlet contrast. “I know that the Reiss family knows what we’re up to. Or at least that they have some idea,” his adam’s apple bobbed again and Armin had to still his hand before beginning his first swipe.  
  
“I thought that, as well,” Armin replied, scraping away the hair on his pulse point, pressing his knuckles there for a moment to feel his heartbeat. “But what to do about it?”  
  
“We draw them out,” the corner of Erwin’s mouth twitched up and Armin’s gut churned.  
  
“You mean set a trap,” he held his breath for the moment his blade touched Erwin’s windpipe, taking each ridge of cartilage like a mountain with careful and precise movements. This would be the moment to kill him, one swift strike to the windpipe and esophagus would end his life. With enough pressure he could expose the edges of his vertebrae and watch his handsome head fall to the bed without support.

  
That thought made him sick and the taste of bile rose to the back of his throat.  
  
“I want two decoys prepared, one for Historia and one for Eren,” he murmured.  
  
“Decoys? You mean to send someone in unprepared?”  
  
“I intend to send you,” Armin’s hand nearly slipped then and he withdrew the blade with a swift grip.  
  
“What?!”  
  
“I need you to do this for me,” Erwin said, and for the first time those bright blue eyes opened and bored into Armin’s soul.  
  
“I bet you were a fucking terrifying child,” Armin whispered. It was probably too casual for an officer and subordinate relationship but… this time he really couldn’t stop it.  
  
“So they say,” he laughed again. This time it was tinged with mania that lingered for only the briefest of seconds. “I’ve already told Levi,” he tapped the remaining lather. “At least I’ve given him the note, but I wanted to talk to you personally.”  
  
“Why is that?” Armin scraped off the last of the hair from this throat and lifted the damp towel he’d prepared to press against Erwin’s face, smothering his smooth face with wet cotton.  
  
“I’m asking you to put yourself in a situation that may get you killed.”  
  
“Since when did you have that sort of consideration for your subordinates?” Armin murmured.  
  
“Telling soldiers to go to war is different from asking someone to go in unarmed and blind,” Erwin ran his fingers over his face once Armin pulled the towel away, humming. “Closest shave I’ve had in a few weeks,” he shifted his injured shoulder. Armin thought he was supposed to laugh at his comment but all it made him feel was sadness and a sob escaped his lips in replace of the snort he’d desired.  
  
“You’re not funny,” he supposed that was a laugh on his voice, that shook the tones and quaked his shoulders.  
  
“Ah… no I’m not,” he caught his hand in Armin’s hair and lifted his head. “Will you do this? To protect your friends?”  
  
Armin searched his face, reaching out to press his hand to the smooth skin he had just cleaned himself. He couldn’t say no. He knew Erwin wouldn’t ask him to do this without necessity. He _knew_ that… and still…  
  
“Yes,” there was hesitance there, the softest of whispers. “I’ll do my best.”  
  
“Thank you,” Erwin said. The first time he’d thanked anyone in longer than he cared to admit. Really thanked them and truly meant the words he said; Armin knew that even as he curled his fingers into Erwin’s shirt.  
  
“Anything for the Glory of Humanity,” but really Armin was saying the one thing he would never be able to say aloud. ‘I love you.’  
  
“For the Glory of Humanity,” Erwin whispered in return before their lips met once more. Lingering.


End file.
